Water's Edge
by Phoenix2063
Summary: On an exploratory mission Kirk goes missing and is trapped by a carnivorous plant. After Spock saves his life, he reflects on how close he came to losing his captain. Meditation can only bring Spock so far before he has to deal with unexpected emotion.
1. Chapter 1

There wasn't much time to think. There was no warning; their sensors did not detect it. Spock certainly read the reports, all of which never accounted for this.

For the past two days people went missing. A Rogers here, an Olsen, there…

Two out of every five members beamed to the planet suffered from sporadic disappearances. Spock re-modulated his sensors to detect neutron radiation; he scanned the surrounding space for warp signatures or anything that could denote a cloaked ship.

Nothing.

Sulu was the first officer to come up with an explanation. He'd be on the planets surface for three hours and though his theory was slightly on the radical side of things, it did bear some merit.

Kirk insisted on accompanying the away-team to the planet's surface and since there were already three senior officers beaming down, the likelihood of the captain's disappearance doubled.

Spock gave his usual complaints and regulations but that smile won. Every time.

He just hoped he'd see it again, Spock thought as they searched frantically. He struggled with his tricorder, going over every last known location.

"Any luck, Mr. Spock?" The doctor asked in succession every ten minutes.

And every time, "No."

Spock twisted more knobs and looked over the horizon bleakly. The chances for survival dwindled at every passing hour.

McCoy decided to stay silent after the next ten minutes were up, feeling utterly useless until he could ascertain the captain's wellbeing.

"Commander!" Sulu barked from a distance.

Spock's head whipped to the sound and approached the excited helmsmen.

"What have you got, Lieutenant?" Spock set his tricorder on his hip and waited.

"I've scanned the region looking for the captain using a standard wide field sensor and turned up nothing. I went back to the sites of all missing crewmembers and began taking smaller more precise readings on the ground and vegetation. Every site showed a small struggle and then nothing, as though they were beamed on the spot. I got to thinking maybe they weren't beamed. What if they were lifted? My natural curiosity with plant life led to a startling conclusion."

"And that would be, Mr. Sulu?"

"One particular plant system has a series of carnivorous characteristics. After studying the vines I found what appears to be a contracting membrane with incredible durability."

"Are you suggesting these plants lifted the missing crewmembers?"

"This vine. It has the captain's skin cells on it. The vine system is very intricate, but if we can trace it down to its source, maybe we can find the captain."

Spock thought for a moment and quickly recalibrated his tricorder to read the specific signature of the plant Sulu grasped.

"Get as many men as you need on it and report to me every half hour."

"Yes sir!" Sulu took off to find the rest of the away team and signaled Scotty to beam down an extra compliment.

Spock immediately informed McCoy of the development, pleased at the doctor's renewed hope and rare smile.

Spock went to work carefully tracing each vine. He followed the vast matrix of purple spindles. Some stretched for miles.

Tracing the vine itself was proving to be useless, and the same reports from Sulu's team were less than encouraging.

"Lt. Sulu to Mr. Spock?"

"Spock here, what do you have Mr. Sulu?"

"A thought, Commander. What if we recalibrate our tricorders to detect energy levels? The furthest ends of the vine have fewer nutrients then others; I believe if we modify our tricorders to read the specific synthesis and its correlated energy levels we might have better luck finding the source."

"Do you have the specific signature configuration for such a calibration?"

"One moment."

As Sulu calculated Spock continued deeper into the jungle of purple webs.

A shift of light caused Spock to turn swiftly as a purple tendril slipped over his arms and waist, extracting a gasp of alarm from the Vulcan. Spock's communicator tumbled to the soil and with his arms locked firmly at his sides, his phaser was useless.

Spock heard Sulu's voice from the ground and immediately tested his strength.

The vine did not budge. Instead of lifting, it coiled about him and rolled, twisting him along the line at an alarming speed. It crushed his wrists and ribs as it used a wavering pressure to send him through the forest. Spock stayed conscious but he suspected that his human companions would have lost awareness in the next ten minutes. He fought to focus on his own physiology and slowly restricted the flow of oxygen to his brain. Spock had training over his body's responses and though the situation was tense, he was able to calm considerably through the manipulation.

As soon as Spock was able, he began making calculations based upon speed and distance. He hoped to extrapolate how far he would be from the away team and if Sulu was successful in the recalibration, approximately how long it would be before they caught up.

Vegetation became a blur, the constricting pressure became a numb constant, but the ache in his right wrist was persistent.

Broken.

Spock evaluated.

2km.

4km.

16km

By the end of his trip he estimated he was at least 34.7km from his original position in 36 minutes. He made a note to look at that contracting membrane Sulu spoke of once this was all over.

As he made his descent toward the center of the botanical being, he saw an array of red colors and one golden spec.

The plants central system was housed in a deep lagoon. The depths were incalculable.

The water was crystal clear, but no end to the rooting system was in sight.

It made sense that the plant needed constant hydration for what it could do, Spock thought.

As Spock got closer he saw individual vines holding each federation member. All were unconscious, though not all were accounted for.

Out of the eight captured only three remained. Uniforms of the others floated eerily on the water's surface.

Spock was fastened and secured next to Kirk who looked all intents and purposes aside, unharmed.

"Captain!" Spock shouted.

"Jim?"

Spock shot a glance at the two security officers. The last of which awoke rather abruptly.

"No NO! NO!" He screamed, the vine squeezing and contorting his body in painful ways before plunging the officer beneath the depths. He could see the officer struggle. In fact, the water was strangely clear for housing five dead people; Spock was at a loss to wonder how.

He had a long while to contemplate the exchange.

The plant held him beneath the water for exactly thirty minutes.

15.67km.

Another 19.02km and Sulu should happen upon them.

If this was a ritual and if the next security officer would be taken in the same fashion- then help would arrive at eight point seven minutes into his captain's murder.

More if they encountered complications.

The red haze Spock wondered about floated up and nearly touched his feet before a suction-like system absorbed it into the main root system.

Fascinating.

Spock twisted his left arm slightly trying to reach his phaser. The angles were off and try as he might- he was still out of reach.

Spock's gaze settled on his Captain. He was thankful for the man's unconsciousness and hoped he hadn't experienced the other's deaths prior to his arrival.

"Captain!" Spock tried once more.

Jim's eyes remained shut, his cheek bruised lightly and his breathing labored.

But breathing, Spock reminded himself.

A shudder rippled through the vine and all became still.

Spock used all of his strength and reached, twisted, wiggled- anything. But the constant force holding him refused to reflect the lax reaction of the root system.

The plant took all of two minutes to absorb the nutrients and continue on. The pulsating energy was nearly tangible as the plant shook and vibrated. The next security officer was submerged.

Spock wished with all his strength that he could've prevented those deaths. For all his clinical and scientific output, most input was purely emotional. He would grieve silently as he recalculated their rescue rate with the digestion period of two minutes.

Spock absently wished he'd stayed with Dr. McCoy. At least the doctor could have picked up his communicator and reported what had transpired. The wish was short lived as he watched the inevitable color fill beneath his feet.

"CAPTAIN!" Spock tried again.

Two minutes and his captain would be submerged.

Spock, without the use of his hands, was skeptical if a mental calling would reach his superior officer. But thoughts of doubt were always meant to be tested. It was the way of his scientific mind. He tried, however, against the odds.

He failed. His captain did not stir, nor did he sense his mind. Spock was out of reach.

Just like the phaser. He held no power.

"Captain!"

"JIM!" Spock screamed this time, using a dangerous amount of oxygen to call to his friend.

Twenty seconds.

Ten.

The vines shook. Rumbled. The vibrations began quickly and scooped Kirk into the air.

His light respiratory reactions would make his lungs a vacuum as soon as the shock of water hit them.

Spock estimated that Kirk would live for two minutes before his brain functions became critical. After that it was a question of will, and if the captain regained consciousness after the initial shock.

Spock had never felt so helpless in his life.

Kirk's gold uniform disappeared, and Spock was doomed to watch.

An unusual shudder and an immediate releasing occurred. The vine no longer held him and Spock's body plummeted into the water.

Spock immediately snatched his phaser from his hip and prayed it would work under the surface.

The end of the weapon bubbled, but gave no power.

Spock cursed to himself and watched as his captain's eyes remained closed.

Spock pushed himself to the surface as quickly as he submerged and drew in a breath for two.

He dove down and located the captain. His inner eyelids made the sting of alien water bearable. Forty seconds.

Spock reached Kirk, nearly 12.114 meters beneath the surface.

If he could just keep him alive for twenty-five minutes, the away team should arrive, and with the away team, Dr. McCoy.

Spock immediately connected his fingers to Kirk's temple, probing, and awakening. He gave his intent mentally so the Captain could respond and take the breath given to him without being startled.

Spock made a firm seal with his lips against his captain's and then opened his mouth to let air pass between them. Time was precious and as soon as the delivery was made, Spock pushed to the surface to reload.

When Spock came back he could see the distress and agony beginning. Kirk's eyes were no longer open and squeezed tightly. The lines of pain were upsetting, and Spock had to tap Kirk's cheek before he could administer the next round of oxygen. He waited for the bubbles of Kirk's exhale to cease before he reapplied his lips.

Kirk took from him quickly, desperately. Spock read the signs and tried to make his ascent quicker, more efficient.

Spock sucked in the air as soon as he hit the surface and sped through the water, his body now accustomed to how hard he had to push, and how long it took to get to Kirk's body. His hands reached out cupping the human's cheeks and pressed his life-giving lips to Kirk's.

Kirk's eyes flew open, wide and his throat hitched. He hadn't expelled the air he already held and would suffer doubly this round.

Spock quickly ascended, took another breath and raced down for the fourth time. Kirk coughed bubbles of stale breath and tried desperately not to open his mouth against the vacuum of water. Spock replaced his air as quickly as it left, and retreated to repeat the action.

Twelve minutes had passed. And once they neared the eighteen minute mark, time would be actively running out. It was around minute 26 that the blood started.

Spock returned again, his lips firm and hard against Kirk's. Spock's hand settled low on Kirk's neck behind his head, cradling him lightly as he tried to project strength to his captain through telepathy. He didn't have time for a light meld as he did when Kirk was first submerged, but it would have to do.

Spock's limbs burned, his muscles straining by the sixth descent. Spock traveled a total of 121.14 meters since he started.

And by the ninth time Spock broke the surface he doubted help would arrive in time.

Kirk was phasing in and out of consciousness, the pressures crushing him were reaching threshold.

And through their ninth exchange of air, Kirk seemed to get that feeling too. His lips pressed back at Spock's briefly and were less then conducive for obtaining oxygen. Spock let his fingers trace over Kirk's cheek and then to the back of his neck near his brainstem.

"Please live." Spock projected; his forehead touching Kirk's just barely before he rocketed to the surface.

He could hear the propagation of sound from the surface to the water as he ascended. Muffled voices and tones shattered Spock's senses.

As soon as he got through the surface he located Sulu crouched near the shore.

"SULU! Fire 50 degrees at the base of the submerged vine!" He gave the order with no need to watch if it would be carried out or not, gathered another breath and plunged beneath the water with renewed energy.

He raced downward, wondering if the time it took him to the order was too long for Kirk as his captain struggled to breathe.

The vine sizzled as its immolated end hit the lagoon with a sickening whine. Spock watched Kirk's body move as the end uncoiled and his form slowly ascended.

Spock intercepted him, stopped their succession and gave him one last breath. Spock couldn't help his arms that cradled his captain's head to his shoulder in a light embrace before he started kicking. Kirk's extra weight was difficult but manageable. Spock angled toward the shore. Even if Kirk were to get a lungful before they hit the surface, McCoy would be present to revive him.

Spock saw a hand dangling from the surface. He concentrated on it and pushed.

Spock felt Kirk's fingers tighten around his waist; he felt the gripping at his uniform and recognized the strain.

A few more seconds. Please.

Spock reached for the hand and grasped it tightly.

Sulu pulled them from the water and quickly secured the captain.

Kirk hacked violently as oxygen surrounded him. He expelled what water choked him as he met the surface. For a minute he had a look of relief as one of his body functions returned to normal.

The pain came next. He writhed, and screamed. When he finally sucked in, it was agony. Spock immediately dropped at his side and gathered Kirk's head in his lap. McCoy was taking readings, his eyes wide and his expression tense.

Spock used both hands to initiate a meld. The color of his captain's face was sickly and pale, his cheeks had yet to fill with color and it worried both First Officer and medic.

McCoy secured Kirk for beaming and made the order. Spock, against all emotional desires, remained on the surface to get Sulu's account.

"How did you find us, Mr. Sulu?"

"I used the energy signature and traced the main root system, my calculations worked. I happened upon a particular root bearing Vulcan DNA and fabric from a Starfleet uniform. I immediately severed it with my phaser, I assume that is how you were freed and the captain was still captured."

"Your timing was impeccable. Any further delay and our captain would be dead." His relief spoke louder of gratitude than anything else.

"How long was he under the water before we got there?" Sulu wondered aloud.

"Twenty-four point four minutes." Spock said gravely. Together they cleaned up the site and recorded the names of those that didn't make it back.

As soon as Spock materialized he went to his quarters and typed up the deceased reports.

Spock also sent information to Starfleet along with a preliminary report. He urged that the planet was be given a priority 4 threat alert. Any other follow-up missions Starfleet wished to acquire should be conducted with high caution.

If it were Spock's decision he would have the planet quarantined and left alone. But it was a lone suggestion of a First Officer. Whether Starfleet adhered to such an action was up to them. But eight deceased and a mangled captain were sufficient grounds.

"Spock to Sickbay."

"He's not out of the woods yet, I'll report to you when I'm not busy saving his life." McCoy answered briskly.

Spock didn't reply and went back to the deceased reports. After Spock made a few conference-vid calls he discovered exactly why Kirk hated doing them.

Mothers wept and fathers tried to look strong. Wives' jaws set firmly and angrily and then sobs would distort the audio inputs.

Spock tried to use words he'd overheard Kirk using as a source of comfort. He recounted the excellent service the men gave before that very service claimed their lives. He tried to put a proud spin on their lives, that their death was not meaningless. But no matter how he worded it from person to person, they all ended up as the same blundering mess. Emotion was never Spock's strong point. He had them, he controlled them. But the expression of them was so foreign he could not calculate the right response to some of the transmissions. He usually ended up shutting them off and feeling worse off for it. At least they were eight more reports Kirk wouldn't have to deal with when he recovered.

Spock stalked to the bridge, feeling the cold tension suspended low to the ground; as low as the gazes the alpha shift gave when Spock took the center chair.

"Do you have the reports I sent to your console, Lt. Uhura?"

"Three sir, the obituary reports, your preliminary account and the personal letter of suggested quarantine. Anything else?"

"No, that will be all. Please send them personally to Admiral Carter, and another copy to Starfleet headquarters."

Carter had been the instigator of the investigative mission and it was standard practice to send the reports back to the source.

"Transmission complete."

"Mr. Sulu, prepare to leave orbit."

"McCoy to Bridge."

Spock hit the channel to Sickbay faster than anticipated and winced as his broken wrist decided to announce itself. He'd forgotten.

"He's stabilizing, please report to me when you're available."

"Once we have left orbit, head to the nearest Starbase. Warp factor 4. Contact me if needed, otherwise you have the conn Mr. Sulu."

"Aye sir."

Spock walked briskly to the turbolift. He contemplated resetting his wrist during the journey, but McCoy would probably be able to tell if he scanned him and being reprimanded was the last thing he wanted to deal with upon entering Sickbay.

The doors swished open and McCoy stood near the patients' archway with a post-surgery drink already in hand.

"How is his condition?" Spock asked.

"His organs were smattered together, some squished behind others and the configuration of his ribs was all out of whack. A lung collapsed during surgery and his heart stopped beating for six seconds but all and all he pulled through. You know I had to place every single organ back into their respective cavities? And hell I had to repair two or three cavities just so they could fit. Damnit all, he should be dead." McCoy's tone was a drone and denoted a very difficult battle between reporting his status as a friend and a skilled physician.

Spock took it all in. How very close.

"Now I read the reports. Can you tell me how the captain was able to stay under water for twenty-four point four minutes without so much as a lungful of water?"

"I supplied him with oxygen while he was submerged."

"With what?"

"My lungs." Spock recounted.

McCoy stayed silent, his bottom lip twitched and his eyebrow quirked slightly. He resigned to a firm hand on Spock's arm.

"Thank you."

"I did what I had to Doctor, nothing more."

"You've brought my friend back to me perhaps more than I do for you, I think saving his life is a joint effort, and without you I doubt he'd be here today."

"You're right, he wouldn't."

"Damnit Spock, I'm just trying to thank you— "

"But you are right doctor." Spock interrupted. "It **is** a joint effort, and without you he'd also be lost to me. Thanks are illogical, but necessary in this case."

McCoy's terse expression broke as easily as it started and he smiled weakly.

"We'll let's hope we continue to keep him around for a bit longer, shall we?"

Spock shifted in agreement and peered over the doctor's shoulder.

"Can I see him?" Spock asked quietly.

"Yeah, he's not awake. I put him into a medical healing trance if you will—"

"A coma?"

"He should be awake in three days. Until then there's not much you can do."

Spock left him anyhow and entered the room.

Kirk laid in one of the more advanced anti-grav. beds. His body was suspended and healing, his eyes closed and his heart beating. Spock wanted to reach out. He wanted to feel Kirk's mind alive and well but he knew that while he laid in a coma it was best to leave his body to heal.

Spock stood still and took in his captain's features. His cheek was darker now that the bruise had time to set in. His chest was wrapped and heaved uncomfortably with the assisted breathing apparatus. One eye was swollen and glossy with inflammation. His whole torso looked like a puzzle with jagged lines and surgical ink marking each incision.

But he was alive.

Spock reminded himself again and again.

"I'll check you out now, if you're satisfied with my work." McCoy insisted.

Spock slowly turned to the doctor and followed him to another bed.

Spock sat on the edge and held out his wrist in compliance.

"I know, it shakes me up too, seeing him like that." McCoy said but the ghostly look that took Spock's face remained.

McCoy breathed deeply before swiftly tugging on Spock's wrist, snapping the bone back into place. He took an infuser to his wrist and sealed the injury from the inside to ensure its strength.

"Try not to do any heavy lifting and I'll leave it out of a healing wrap."

Spock nodded.

"Do you want something to help you sleep? You look tired as hell Spock."

"No, my own functions will recognize that need as well and fall accordingly. If you'll excuse me, doctor."

"Yeah, yeah. And I'll call you when he wakes."

"I thought you said it would take three days?"

"Yeah, but you know Jim. He's climbed out of my coma's before, I'm not about to underestimate him now."

"Indeed. I will take my leave then, please inform Mr. Sulu any further command decisions are to be given to Mr. Scott."

"Have a good night. And don't worry; I'll take care of him."

"Of that I have no doubt, good night doctor."

Spock took his time walking to his quarters. His mind kept clouding with kilometers and minutes. Of seconds and close calls.

Eventually he made it to the officer's deck and stood in the middle of his room.

For a long while he didn't move. He should eat. He should sleep. He should meditate.

But he was still.

Spock finally settled his mind and started with incense. He lit two of them. One smelt of sand and dirt, the other of lush grass and ocean mist. As the smells filled the room he dialed in a small Vulcan dish. He ate slowly, the purple veins in the green leaves he requested drudged up a memory of the vines. He squashed down the feeling and ate the vegetation anyhow. He set the tray aside and began a more physical type of Vulcan meditation. He remained standing and stared at the smoke spiraling through his cabin. His heels lifted slowly until he was supported by just the tips of his toes. He brought his hands to his side then slowly up, over his head. His fingertips met, connecting the circuit of thought and feeling. He brought his joined hands down in front of his chest and simultaneously lowered his heels.

Spock continued his descent to the floor with purposeful twists and folds of his legs.

Eventually he ended up on the ground, cross-legged.

He began intense breathing exercises and began organizing his thoughts as he inhaled and exhaled.

At each inhale he found an emotion and by the time he exhaled he had categorized and placed it away. He did this for ten repetitions and when he could no longer categorize, he stopped.

His eyes opened to an unusual amount of disorder still floating through his mind, clogging his senses.

Anything that he couldn't reason with logic stayed for analysis.

Spock took another deep breath and stood.

He stripped down to Starfleet issued blacks and climbed into bed. His fingers steeple again, this time in front of his face, trying to focus the last bits of information.

Information that sent his heart racing.

Information that made his ears flush.

Information that hitched his breath during the most disciplined of breathing exercises.

He replayed the moments of confusion.

His hand on Kirk's neck was logical- he needed to calm his captain less he suffocate. But the moment focused on his thumb. The small circles they made were not for Kirk's benefit. They calmed him. They calmed Spock.

And the last press of their lips was firmer than simply providing a seal against the water surrounding them.

And it wasn't just action that puzzled Spock this night.

It was reaction.

Adrenaline could only be blamed for so much.

Spock's eyes snapped open. He realized the depth of his affection. It was as suffocating as the water had been deep. And as frighteningly clear.

Their embrace as he raced to the surface flooded him with warmth, and with a companionable reassurance that he wasn't alone through that moment.

He'd never felt the need for reassurance before.

Spock sighed.

How could he tell his captain? Should he know?

Spock's judgment was certainly compromised. He knew that. And any discrepancy in his judgment should be reported. His heart locked and tightened at his side the moment that vine plunged Kirk, Jim, beneath the depths of that lagoon. The other deaths had affected him, but not as severely.

It frightened him to think that he could hold a single life in a higher regard than another.

The conflict remained even as Spock slept.


	2. Chapter 2

The mental turmoil kept Spock asleep longer than he anticipated. Five hours.

A captain's whistle startled Spock to consciousness and he quickly recovered to answer it.

"Spock here."

"Mr. Spock we're approaching Starbase 7. A representative from the base is requesting a conference-vid with you. Would you like it patched to your quarters."

"Send it through, Spock out."

"Admiral Carter." Spock addressed as the others face materialized.

"Commander."

"I want to personally apologize for the injuries and loss of life due to this mission. I have pushed for Starfleet to quarantine the planet. I agree with your assessment. A covert biological team will be sent down to take samples but after that the Federation is going to leave the planet alone. Unless those roots magically cure bendii or some other ailment, not another soul will touch down. Business aside how is Captain Kirk?"

"He sustained heavy damage and it will take several days for him to regain consciousness. I will send you a detailed medical report and request that the Enterprise be given a leave of absence from missions until the Captain is fully recovered."

"A little shore leave is in order, I will see to it."

"Thank you Admiral. Spock ou—"

"One more thing, Commander. A last mission. A quarantine team is suited up and ready to be beamed aboard. We'd like the _Enterprise_ to shuttle the team to the planet and return them before your two week shore leave is in effect. It will take me that long to put in your request, by the time you are back _Enterprise_ will be officially off duty."

"That will be acceptable. Personally, I would like to see that planet put to rest."

"Understood. Carter out."

Spock relayed the new orders to Mr. Scott and continued his morning in light meditation.

"McCoy to Spock."

"Spock here. What is it doctor?"

"I think you might want to come down here."

"On my way."

Spock walked anxiously to McCoy's office. He despised it when the doctor was vague, but if he didn't say anything direct it usually leant towards the positive.

He held that thought close as he walked through Sickbay's doors.

McCoy's eyes were smiling but his face was still tight and grim. Spock read right through him.

"Come on." McCoy ushered Spock into the patient's room.

Kirk was sitting up, against doctors orders it seemed.

"Hey! You, down." McCoy barked.

Kirk frowned and tried to slouch into the bed, wincing as he went.

"It's your own damn fault for not listening to me." McCoy responded with a harsh voice and sympathetic eyes.

Spock was worried at first, but if McCoy was scolding oppose to rushing at him with a medical tricorder, it must be a good sign.

"How are you feeling Captain?" Spock asked, announcing his presence and stepping toward the bed with his hands laced behind his back.

"Like my insides have been mangled by a mad scientist, but other than that, pretty good."

"You managed to slip from McCoy's coma; I imagine your healing process has been stunted. Perhaps you should rest."

"Naw, that's the thing Spock, that coma, it was the best of both worlds."

Spock turned to McCoy for clarification.

"Your meld with him while he was unconscious and in the water induced in him a sort of Vulcan healing trace, similar to the ones you slip into but with the aid of the coma, was quite effective."

"I apologize for entering your mind unannounced Captain, but nonetheless, I do not regret it."

"Nor do I, Mr. Spock. And just so we're clear, you have my unwritten permission to do so again anytime in the future if it may save my life." Kirk gave his First Officer a fond gaze, speaking volumes of gratitude and appreciation.

Spock nodded in agreement.

"When can he be released doctor?"

"24 hours. But light duty only. I know he's going to go to the bridge, that's fine. But just get crew updates and go to bed. Please be sure that he does."

Spock raised a brow.

"Am I to be his caretaker?"

"You already are, besides I do not trust him to take medical orders on his own. I'll give you a list of what he can and cannot do. If he does anything on the "cannot" side, you are to report to me immediately and I'll come up with some nasty rehabilitation regiments."

"Aw, come on Bones."

"I'll see to the list. Patch it through to my quarters. Will you require medical updates?"

"Take a scan of him every six hours. I want to know he's not overextending himself. Those organs are delicate and I'm not putting them back together a second time because of stupidity."

"Understood. Captain, we have orders to return to the planet—"

"I know, I know. Quarantine and all that, good work Mr. Spock."

Spock was about to question where he had learned of that information when McCoy gestured to his bedside console. Of course he'd intercept the reports.

"Captain, I will leave you to rest. I am pleased to see you alive and well. Doctor, may I have a word with you?"

McCoy's eyebrow twitched then rose slightly.

"Sure, one moment."

McCoy filled a hypo-spray and approached the bed.

"24 hours. I mean it." Kirk tilted his neck to humor the good doctor and sighed.

The spray hissed and the captain settled painfully into the medical bed.

McCoy found Spock sitting.

"Alright. Something's up, and do I need a drink?"

"Perhaps."

"Christ." McCoy saw nervousness in Spock's eyes.

Nervousness. It didn't fully register but that drink did. McCoy hesitated at the brandy and chose whiskey instead.

"Alright, spill it."

"I do not intend to 'spill' anything Dr. McCoy."

His full last name and not just doctor, Damnit.

"Alright, just tell me what it is you think I need to hear."

"It is a matter of impairment. I believe I may be compromised."

"Is your wrist still bothering you?"

"Not physical impairment." Fragmented sentences… Son of a—

"Then the meld. Did any of Jim's brainwaves damage to you in some way?"

"No."

McCoy took a long deep drink.

"Emotional then?" The doctor dared to venture.

"I believe my attachment to the captain, my _emotional_ attachment, is going to prove damaging to the chain of command. I came to the realization yesterday that his life meant more to me than those of the security officers that perished. I was appalled by the thought and frankly I do not know if I could make a life or death decision regarding the captain if I were forced to choose between him and another member of this crew. I would always choose life for him and therefore there is no choice."

McCoy seemed to think about this for a while. He took periodic sips and studied the First Officer.

"I'd be lying if I said I'd risk the captain's life if there were another crew member on my operating table that needed attention at the same time. I think we are equally impaired and I don't know of any man that isn't when it comes to someone he loves and respects."

"I am not a man, Doctor, which is why these thoughts are particularly troubling to me."

McCoy wasn't sure how to get to Spock. He already knew what his answer was. He was well aware that this impairment was natural in the human world and though the books had written cause for concern for such attachments, every captain would be stripped of rank if doctors actually enforced those opinions.

"You don't need to be a man to love, Mr. Spock."

McCoy left it at that and finished his drink. Or at least meant to until Spock unveiled one tiny thing.

"Love, doctor? There are so many forms of it expressed by humans. I believe the regard you hold for the captain is different than mine, though you speak of it in the same breath."

"Wait."

McCoy reluctantly revisited his seat, this time sinking into it very slowly.

"When you were reviving the captain, I assume you had to be closer to him than you've previously experienced."

"That… is an accurate statement."

"And in that closeness you discovered … what exactly?"

Spock sighed. Outwardly.

McCoy poured another drink.

He saw the signs. He knew how to read them. He just never thought he'd be looking for them in a Vulcan. Knew exactly what that meant but damnit-all he needed to hear Spock say it or else he'd never truly know what that green-blooded alien was feeling.

"I desire him."

"Emotionally? Physically?" McCoy liked specifics. Vulcan's tended to be vague. And for good reason. For a race that feels deeply and shows nothing, they thrive on it.

"Both are equally compelling." Spock admitted.

"Are you going to tell Jim this?" McCoy tried his damnest to be objective. He truly wasn't sure what he thought a romantic relationship would do. To either of them.

He knew Jim longed for companionship despite his one-night-stands-on-shore-leave ways but he also knew Jim would never put anyone before the Enterprise. She was too special, too demanding, and the only other person McCoy could ever see the ship sharing the captain with was Spock. Someone equally devout to work and less likely to pull Jim's ambition away from Starfleet.

Spock was certainly in need of emotional stability. For all his masks, McCoy sensed a deeper issue with Spock. He knew problems typically arose from mixed heritages, and whether or not a society was socially accepting of those differences. But the individual. Was he accepting of it, of himself? Could two broken people form such a perfect whole? McCoy for the life of him wanted to believe so, but he was prone to romanticism and perfect endings every since his own tragic marriage. He loved love. But he also had no desire to be a part of it. McCoy realized his own reflections were getting too personal and tried to focus on Spock.

Apparently Spock was doing calculations or something relatively close to human thinking on the subject. He hadn't responded.

"I think you should." McCoy answered for him.

"And for what purpose, doctor?" He sounded so resigned. Rejected already.

"I've seen his dedication to you, and I'm not sure his affections are strictly professional either. At least be open to it. He deserves love, even the convoluted green-blooded kind you could offer him. And though I hate to admit it, you do too."

"That is the thing doctor, I do not know if I can be… adequate enough for him in human terms of a suitable mate."

"A suitable… damnit Spock. Just tell him, if he rejects you, fine, we can have a drink over it. But if he doesn't…think of the possibilities… remember. There are always possibilities."

The quote stuck Spock oddly. He considered McCoy's words.

He decided.

"Thank you doctor, I'm sure Jim will update you on our progress."

"You'll tell him then?"

"Yes. I will tell him."

McCoy took it as a personal victory and finished his second drink. Spock left and all the doctor could do was shake his head.

"Well. Onwards and upwards." McCoy put away the bottle and set up the next round of treatments for Jim. He programmed an automated schedule and instructed Chapel to check on his readings every three hours. He noted where he predicted the readings should be after the medication was administered and requested information on any discrepancies.

"Is it true?" Chapel asked demurely.

"You listened I take it?"

"I didn't mean to. I only heard him say love, and that's all I needed."

"Yeah. Jim doesn't know yet. I'd like to keep it that way until pointy ears can talk to him, if he ever does." McCoy sighed.

"I think they'll be okay." Chapel responded assuredly.

"Me too, Christine, me too."

Spock headed to the bridge. He wasn't sure if he felt better after talking to McCoy or not.

He expected to be told how to deal with his feelings of favoring one life over another, or how at least he should go about command with such thoughts in his head. He never intended to reveal the depth of his affection. But when McCoy said 'love' it inspired him to make the clarification- the categorization he'd been attempting since those emotions presented themselves. He never wanted it known that he physically desired the captain. Jim. His friend? McCoy was also called friend. After this… what would he become?

Spock was genuinely worried. He repressed it as soon as the turbolift doors opened.

Scotty lifted from the chair and resumed his post.

"Aye, Mr. Spock! We've got the whole'lot of 'em in the transporter room and 'ere bein' assigned temporary quarters as we speak!"

"Good work, Mr. Scott. Mr. Sulu, begin disengagement procedures." The sooner this mission ended the sooner they could all have shore leave.

It was the first time he actively sought rest. Mostly for the crew. Mostly for his captain. There was that unmistakable bias again. It struck him gentler this time. It manifested as a subtle warmth that spread beneath his chest. It seemed intensified now that he knew the identity of the emotion.

"Mr. Sulu set coordinates for the planet warp factor 6."

Spock thought briefly of Sulu, wondering when the man had time to rest since Kirk's rescue and piloting the ship.

Had his worry for his captain overshadowed his regard for all others? As soon as the ship hit warp, Spock arranged relief for all the senior officers that had been involved in the rescue mission or away teams.

They all held silent thanks in their eyes, even as they reluctantly gave up their posts.

They truly had an amazing crew, Spock thought.

The ship would be at warp for another seven hours. Spock flagged down Kirk's usual yeoman and requested all of the paperwork in queue to be filed.

He signed reports and scanned the finer details in his captain's absence. No doubt Kirk would learn that all his paperwork was caught up by the time he woke. Spock inwardly smiled at thoughts of his captain.

McCoy's words reeled through his head and that nervousness that struck him in the doctor's office flared up again.

Would there really be any benefit in revealing his affections?

He already went through it with himself and realized he only considered the effects it would have on the chain of command. He never took the time to personally account for his feelings, or think of how it might affect the captain and him socially. Spock allowed himself to imagine what chess nights would be like after releasing such information, knowing that Kirk knew and accepted him. He imagined deliberate smiles and the attentions that he would get from his captain. They already had such a tangible connection that it was hard to imagine it even more enhanced.

McCoy had a talent for reading people, and doubted he would give Spock false information on purpose.

Spock was never opposed to challenges, or new beginnings. It was why he chose Starfleet. Why he continues to choose Starfleet. He couldn't imagine Kirk, Jim, completely rejecting him. His affection… his, dare he say, love? Maybe… but his friendship would always stand.

Logically, there was nothing to lose that he didn't already have.

Spock discovered what day dreaming was as he realized he was already halfway through the reports and could remember less than a forth of them.

Six hours passed, the reports were finished and Spock spent the remainder of his time on recalibrations and calculations while they were at warp. He wanted to maximize the sensors so that they detected potentially dangerous vegetation. No longer would they beam on to a planet of underestimated flora. He made a database of every potentially dangerous pollen and rooting system and entered it into the sensory databank. He pulled the original botanist's report they had sent to Starfleet and began calibrating a specific set of sequences and signatures. He hoped to try it out once they reached the planet.

"Sir, we're closing in on the planet." The temporary helmsmen announced.

"Hail Sulu, and all other senior officers to the bridge, tell them they have ten minutes to report to their stations. Thank you all for relieving the senior staff." Spock cringed when he thanked officers. He knew from classes positive reinforcement helped build teams, especially among humans. He was gratified, but such praises often left him feeling more empty than expressive.

And that was another difference Jim instilled in him.

When Jim was so dangerously close to death he remembered begging time to spare them. He remembered saying please to someone, something, that would listen. He remembered thanking that someone when Sulu's voice broke through the surface of that water. And earlier in sickbay he was truly pleased to see the captain awake. And he thanked McCoy for just doing his job. For returning him. And he meant it. Strongly. Passionately.

Spock heard the turbolift open and saw a brighter looking Sulu take his post.

"Mr. Sulu, prepare to set a standard orbit around the planet."

"Spock to Mr. Scott."

"Scott here."

"Inform the quarantine crew and the botanists to report to the transporter room for beam out. Make sure everyone is armed and that they stay in groups of two or more when traveling outside the beam down radius."

"Aye sir! Scott out."

Spock left the center chair and took up stock with his scanner. He tuned and punched a few controls but mostly watched the activity on the planet with grave intensity.

If that root system as so much as trembled, he'd know about it.

He sent the coordinates of the central root system to Chekov's console. He hoped he wouldn't have to destroy a living creature, but he would if it stopped the deaths of Starfleet officers.

The crew worked effectively and quickly. The samples they collected took less than an hour. The quarantine crew set up regulation beacons and warning flags then beamed back to the ship. Another crew on board worked on a probe and set a few netting systems. They cast a small force field around the planet with protection numbers for the grid they integrated. If anyone wanted go down to the planet they would have a long line of security to go through before they could even set foot on its soil. Transporter inhibitors were last to be established after the final person made it back to the ship.

"All crew members accounted for sir." Uhura chimed as the report came through.

"Mr. Sulu, prepare to leave orbit and return to Starbase 7. We'll drop off the crew and shore leave will be in affect as soon as our mission is complete."

Everyone smiled at the news, and emotions seemed to lift.

Mr. Scott walked off the turbolift with a hiss.

"Mr. Spock, I'm ta relieve you of your duty sir, doctor's orders."

Spock relinquished the center chair and gave the engineer a thankful nod and withheld questioning that decision.

Jim must be awake, Spock thought.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't stalling to report to sickbay. He got the doctor's meaning full-well but still… he hadn't meditated on his recent thoughts and they still felt too jumbled for such an important discussion.

"McCoy to Spock." The doctor's voice was sharp.

"On my way, doctor."


	3. Chapter 3

Spock turned from the door to his quarters. He would have no time to meditate.

When he got to the sickbay he was greeted by an unexpected smile.

"There you are!" McCoy said cheerfully as Spock finally entered the room.

The Vulcan hesitated for a step at the jovial expression.

"Come in, come in." McCoy brought Spock to where Kirk was sitting, blue medical robe and all.

"Hey Spock." Jim smiled. The improvement was more than noticeable. He no longer winced when he moved and his motor functions seemed to be repairing themselves efficiently.

"Captain." Spock greeted.

McCoy pulled out a chair for Spock and quietly exited the room. Spock knew a setup when he saw one.

But he took the chair.

"So we beat the big bad plant, seven personnel were lost, a planet was quarantined, a captain mangled, and we are scheduled for two weeks of shore leave. Am I missing anything?" Kirk tried to update himself humorously, but noticeably faltered over the mention of the dead crewmembers. Spock's face remained set in stone, and perhaps paled a bit at the mention of the captain's previous condition.

"No sir, I believe that summarizes the reports somewhat accurately."

"Somewhat? McCoy is doing some damn dancing thing that I haven't seen him do in a while. There's something I'm missing and I want to know what it is." Kirk demanded, his voice firm and unyielding.

Spock stilled. He had no idea how to start. For all the compartmentalizing of his emotions this was one box he never thought he'd have to open let alone create about his commanding officer.

"I believe the doctor is under the impression that I experienced an emotional reaction to these events."

Kirk's eyes softened a bit.

"Of course you did. You almost saw me die, I would be torn up inside if I had to witness this in reverse. But you saved me, again. This isn't new."

"Do you recall how I saved you?" Spock asked, hoping he could explain what he physically realized between them as a launching point for this discussion.

Kirk's eyes scrunched when he tried to remember exact details. His mind came up with a fuzzy version but he recalled what he could.

"I remember being cold, like I had the wind perpetually knocked out of me…"

"An apt description."

"Then I remember you. Not you. Your mind. It was like a breath of fresh air, it pulled me awake…."

Spock waited as details arranged themselves in the human mind.

"I was underwater. You kept leaving me and coming back. Over and over again."

Kirk gestured to the bedside console.

"I read your preliminary report; you said you repeatedly resuscitated me, though you left out exactly how you accomplished that. Some oxygen hypo maybe."

"No. I physically resuscitated you, captain. I was forced to leave you to refill my lungs with oxygen so I could pass it to you while you were submerged."

"For twenty-four point four minutes? Jesus Spock." Kirk ran a hand through his hair in complete awe of what his first officer did to keep him alive.

"Thank you. God, thank you. I cannot imagine where I would be without your dedication."

"Logically, I calculated that Sulu's team would find us within the time you were submerged. Whether or not they got there before the physical strain was too much was another issue. I guess you could say I held onto a dim hope that you would survive long enough. I would never leave you to die when I had options available to me to keep you alive."

"And then you commanded my ship, beautifully I might add, and finished my paperwork? You even did the deceased conference calls."

"I was merely upholding the ship's duties in your absence."

Kirk took a moment to think. He lifted his hand to his lips and briefly rubbed the pads of his fingers over chapped skin.

"So that was real." Kirk murmured.

"Yes."

Kirk was silent for a long while. Eventually Spock found his words to be unemotional, his delivery unacceptable, and the direction of the conversation unfocused to his intent.

He learned now in his frustration that he wanted Kirk to know, to understand, and give him guidance. He trusted the captain completely, why not with this?

"Sir." Spock began. When Kirk failed to acknowledge him, Spock took his hand, gently.

He knew the talk with McCoy eventually led to where he was seeking and decided he needed to retrace those steps.

"I fear that in the line of duty I was emotionally compromised as McCoy already suggested. But not because I almost saw you die. Truthfully that happens more often then not, a habit I hope you soon rectify. I have come to terms with this possibility. What I haven't come to terms with is the rating that I place upon your life."

"Rating?"

"Captain. I saw the others die. Two security men perished in front of me, and though I could do nothing, I did not feel helpless. You were still alive and I held on to that. But when you were sent into the water, I feared for your life more than I feared for the others. As a Vulcan, I should hold all life sacred. I, as half human, consider your life worth more than the other 429 crew compliment combined.

I fear I am compromised when it comes to your life. And more than that, I feel affection for you that is beyond simple friendship."

The last part left Spock dizzy as he felt the emotions in Kirk do circles and build from the beginning of his speech.

Kirk's hand gripped Spock's, tightening in response to his constricting throat. He couldn't be sure of the emotion he heard in Spock's voice, or the intense eyes that locked on him.

But Spock's hand.

The Contact.

His skin.

Everything the Vulcan claimed to abhor.

And Spock's fingers burned. Kirk could feel their heat and in the back of his mind he could remember being caressed awake from a horrible dream.

"If this… affection you speak of is more than friendship, then what is it Spock?"

"I do not know. I was hoping you could assist me."

Kirk almost chuckled at that. He cringed slightly, realizing he'd have to be crudely clinical when it came to explaining emotions to Spock.

Especially _those_… emotions.

"When you resuscitated me, when your lips were on mine, what did you feel?" Kirk asked, genuinely interested and slightly embarrassed at the same time.

Spock didn't answer abruptly. He stared off as though he were trying to identify the emotion and couldn't come up with a suitable word.

"Protectiveness." He concluded.

"I wanted you to live. I wanted you to know I was there. I didn't care how I achieved that. I know I pressed against you firmer than necessary. I know I made decisions that we're meant to comfort myself more than you. I was sincerely afraid for your life." Each box opened easily, spilling over. Spock got McCoy's colloquialism in that moment.

But more information still shifted about. Unaccounted for. Unexplained. Spock realized his fingers were moving lightly over Kirk's. Each small caress seemed to be keys to those mysterious boxes. Although, the sparks they instilled in him could not be mistaken.

"And now? If you repeated the action, without the threat to my life, what would you feel?" Kirk impelled.

"I do not know." Spock answered truthfully.

Spock had hardly ever engaged in human displays of affection. His human grandmother and mother would occasionally express their love with gentle lips to his forehead or cheek.

But he could feel his own responses in the Vulcan equivalent. Those sparks. Subtle and strong. They pulsed over him with every small move. Spock let his barriers slip, curious to know if what he was feeling was muted or not.

It was, he discovered. Allowing more telepathic reception created larger sparks, and one slipped pass his lips.

"Are you alright?" Kirk…No, Jim asked.

"Yes… I. I think I would feel the same protective fondness if we shared a human kiss."

"Oppose to a Vulcan one?" Jim picked up on the difference Spock made between them immediately.

Spock looked down at their locked hands, then back into Jim's eyes.

"Our telepathic receptors are most sensitive." Spock explained, moving his fingers over the back of Jim's hand, responding again with a small flutter of eyelashes. It was almost perceived as a blink… almost.

Jim smiled in realization of Spock's movements.

"What better way to find out, then to try, Mr. Spock?" It was clear that Spock was more comfortable in his current expression. Soft fingers and light touches.

Spock stilled, contemplated the dos and do nots, the whys and why nots. He found the dos outweighed the don'ts and the whys contradicted the why nots.

'I _am_ part human' Spock reminded himself, this time without the usual distain.

He locked his hand on Jim's, squeezing for a second before leaning over him.

Spock pressed his lips to Jim's, softer than before without the urgency of preserving life. Spock found it was his turn to stop breathing. Jim's neck craned to the side, giving a whole new pressure and access to Spock's lips. Jim's free hand floated to connect with Spock's neck and feathered through short, dark locks.

Eventually Spock pulled away. Slowly. Languidly.

His mind was in a deep haze. His chest squeezed as hard as his hand, and he became distinctively light headed.

"I am experiencing an emotion that is too complex to comprehend. I am sorry I cannot explain it any further than that." Spock said finally.

"Try."

Spock quickly tried to sort out the symptoms before they vanished.

"My thoughts have become disorganized… my lower chest cavity feels constricted… a tingling sensation has made me disoriented, and then the feelings vanish. But irrefutable warmth remains."

Jim smiled. He laughed. It hurt, but he did it anyhow. It was a delirious laugh, a response to an unexpected event.

"Your symptoms are classic Mr. Spock. I must say, you are quite smitten with me." Jim lifted Spock's hand and kissed his fingers, one by one, marveling that the Vulcan was letting him do it.

Spock's eyes fluttered again, and his face tinted green.

"Jim, I believe you are giving me more than a kiss in Vulcan terms."

Jim chuckled again.

"And what exactly am I giving you Mr. Spock?"

Spock blushed deeper; the green climbed to his ears and swept under his neck.

Leonard McCoy would allow a lot of things to go on in his Sickbay. Drinking, gambling. But alien sexual kink wasn't one of them.

"Jim!" McCoy called louder than necessary, and amusedly caught Spock snatching his hand away quicker than a startled rattlesnake. Or something like that, McCoy mused.

"Doctor." Jim gave McCoy a beseeching look. A, please-get-the-fuck-out-you-cock-blocking-son-of-a-bitch, look. The doctor had seen it enough times to read during their at the academy.

Spock stayed silent.

"Don't 'Doctor' me and you should be thankful! I'm releasing you as of now to your quarters. And ONLY to your quarters. Spock, I updated that list of cans and cannots please see to it and call me if you have any problems. With shore leave starting, you will both have two whole weeks to recover.

Oh, and Spock, go see Nurse Chapel. She'll give you an extra set of wraps for Jim's chest and ribs. I'll call you in when we're ready." Spock was thankful for the leave and sought out the nurse.

"Alright, spill it." McCoy only heard so much, and though it was encouraging, it was not enough. He really did speculate Jim's response and in reality had no idea how the captain would take his First Officer's infatuation.

"I dare say, the boy has emotions." Jim responded, a faint grin still evident on his lips.

"Yeah, so he told me. I just want to know what you're going to do with them."

"Do with them? Are you concerned for Spock?" Jim teased slightly.

"Damnit, I know your tendency to love and let go. What do you intend to do with Spock's? It took him a long enough to admit he's having these feelings and it can't be easy for him."

"You're right. I'm scared for him as much as I'm scared for myself. If I allow myself to feel freely for him, I'm afraid I'll fall in love. And though I'm afraid of it, I really want it to happen."

"You're not in love with him then?"

"Heaven's no. But I want to be. I'm not going to fall for an idea that I've created about him in my head for the past few months. If I fall for him, it will be on our own time. But hey, I'll let you know okay?"

McCoy looked sort of sad in a way. He cooked up a fairly compelling romance in his head about completion and compatibility.

"Just don't hurt him. And I mean it. Vulcan's mate for life… if your not 100% committed to this then don't even start."

"I am Bones, I am. I'm just always skeptical at the start, you know that. And you have to admit this threw you for a loop, can you imagine what it's doing to me?"

"No, Jim, I can't. But I don't think it's a rollercoaster you won't be able to handle."

"And I can't wait to _handle_ it…" Jim smirked.

"Fucking hell… No details, you got that! You get in a rough spot with this affair fine, come cry to me, but dear God do not, I repeat, do **NOT** go into intimate detail." McCoy warned.

Jim grinned, a grin signaling that McCoy was going to be in trouble. Ammo for an already loaded gun. God damnit.


	4. Chapter 4

Spock returned with a small medical bag.

"Are you ready to retire, Captain?" Spock offered his arm for assistance.

"Jim, Spock, and yes, I'm ready to go." Kirk swiveled off the bed with the help of Spock's arm and leverage. The first few steps felt crippling, and Kirk almost wished he'd stayed in bed. But Spock. He wanted nothing more than to fall asleep under the Vulcan's care.

McCoy watched them leave, silently praying for both of them.

Together they entered Jim's room.

"We should administer the pain relievers now." Spock informed, loading the designated hypo-spray and gingerly pressing it to Jim's neck.

"God, I'm tired Spock." Jim admitted, slouching, and leant against Spock's shoulder.

"We'll sleep soon." Spock, unsure of what to do with Jim so close, searched his mind for appropriate comforting behavior. He thanked having a human mother in this instance and resorted to an action she used to do to him as a child. Spock stroked Jim's hair and allowed the captain's weight to fall heavily against him.

"First we have to change your chest compress." Spock led Kirk to the bed, and began working on the ends. He loosened the sides of the specially flexed fabric and took out a new set. It was tight enough to re-shape the broken ribs, but not too tight as to inflict pain. The bindings helped the healing process of his inner organs as well as protect him from strain. The fabric had a natural pain suppressant that absorbed through the skin. It wasn't as effective as pain relievers but it helped, especially when the medicinal effects of the hypo-sprays wore off.

Spock reshaped the fabric around Kirk's ribs, mimicking the meticulous work McCoy put into the first one. Spock's fingers were warm and light. His grip on the fabric tightened over his ribs, gentle yet firm. Kirk enjoyed the attention, and missed it slightly when Spock's fingers left him.

"You should have something to drink before you sleep, ca—Jim."

"Will you stay with me tonight?" Jim asked hesitantly as Spock turned from him.

"Of course." Spock called from the bathroom before returning with a glass of water.

"Drink, I am going to get a few things from my quarters, and then I will be back." Spock disappeared.

Jim had a few moments to think. It was a few more than he'd previously had but he still came to the same conclusion. He really wanted this.

Spock reappeared, his blue uniform in hand as well as a long dark Vulcan robe and a meditation incense holder with two sticks.

Jim was already sprawled out in the bed, lying on his back to avoid the pain in his ribcage.

Spock laid out his clothes on Jim's desk and casually stripped to regulation blacks. He went further, but Jim barely saw the change from the blacks to his Vulcan robe in his drowsiness. He cursed his closing eyes and vaguely remembered waving Spock to the bed.

"I believe we need to discuss the terms of our current relationship."

Spock stated as he slipped into the small space Jim allotted him.

"Mmhmm?" Jim murmured.

"Perhaps in the morning."

"Mmhmm."

Jim fell fast asleep to long fingers slowly combing through his hair.

Jim couldn't contain the smile he felt when he saw Spock lying next to him. His wakefulness must've been contagious; no more than 10 admiring seconds passed before Spock's brown eyes fluttered. Jim caught the small detail of a second eyelid blinking with the rest before becoming fully aware. It was a minute detail, but he found it intriguing. 'What else will I learn?' Jim absently wondered.

"Good morning." Spock offered, if somewhat awkwardly.

"I forget we have shore leave, I feel like I should be doing something."

"The only thing you need to do is recover."

"And 'discuss the details of our relationship'." Jim quoted.

"And that."

"So out with it, what do you want to discuss? Anything in particular?"

"I think we need to establish boundaries and rules. I have compiled a list."

"Of course you have." Jim chuckled, trying to find Spock's hand beneath the blankets.

"Jim. Please focus."

"Sorry."

"Alright, let me have it, what are your 'boundaries and rules'?"

"I do not like public affection, the only type I will allow is the touching of our hands and the several other displays you've already employed while being my friend, however, not on duty. On the subject of duty, we will remain professional and unchanging during this new development. I do not care if the ship gossips like they are prone to do and you may answer them how you wish, but I do not want to compromise our working relationship."

"For not knowing how you felt about me at first, you sure do have a lot of stipulations."

"Do you disagree on any particular point?"

"No, on the contrary, I'm quite relieved and content to keep our physical relationship to our quarters and after shifts. But here's a rule that I have for you. Do not keep anything from me. If I make you angry, if I upset you in any way you must come to me and tell me. If you can't tell me then show me. I will not have you putting up barriers or blocking me out just because you don't understand some of these emotions."

"…Understood."

Jim sat up, and looked Spock in the eye. He brought a hand to the Vulcan's face, felt the sharp curves of his cheek bones and tried to soften his expression.

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't afraid." Spock seemed to understand and brought his hand to capture the one settling on the curve of his neck.

"I admit I'm very unaccustomed to human displays of affection. At least in initiating them. Another rule… no, a boundary… is that I trust you. Implicitly. However you progress this relationship physically will be determined by you. If I am uncomfortable, I will ask you to cease or make my concerns known, but until then you have my express permission to advance this however you see fit."

Spock looked terrified at his own suggestion, as though Jim might take advantage of that trust immediately.

"I respect that, thank you for your trust. And with you… mentally I'm sure there are advancements for us, I'll allow you to precede with those connections as you see fit." Spock seemed to smile at that. His fingers laced with Jim's and he dropped a barrier or two, catching those sparks in his breath for an instant.

"I think it's a good thing I'm injured." Jim said suddenly.

"Why would this be fortunate?" Spock asked, almost clipped.

"I'm going to want to take it slow for a bit, and my… injuries will see that I do. Don't expect any advancement from me for a while, I don't know if I can move as well as I would like… and the frustration of it will probably set back my recovery."

Spock seemed to think about this for a second before blushing mildly.

"Jim, you are aware the advancements do not have to be initiated by you physically, are you not?"

"What do you mean?"

"I do not think I would be averse to complying with verbally detailed suggestion."

Jim smirked, and let out a controlled breath. Spock's fingers moved against Jim's encouragingly.

"Kiss me, then." Jim ordered. His voice finally firming to the idea of them being together.

Spock's lips seemed to twitch. Amusement, Jim recognized.

"I am." Fingers moved.

Jim grinned at the unexpected playfulness.

"In the human way."

"Your current fragment does not hold all the required details."

"Extrapolate then."

"As you wish."

Spock leaned forward and pressed his lips gently to Jim's. This time he naturally tilted. And this time, his lips moved. The pressure was ever light, but varying in intensity. Lips remained closed and as soon as Jim opened them Spock pulled away.

Jim's eyes fluttered open, unsure of when he even closed them and sighed happily.

"I can't wait until I'm recovered." Jim thought aloud.

"Good, you're due for another round of hypo-sprays and a scan that I must complete for Dr. McCoy."

"Ugh, can it wait?"

"No, not after he spent three hours in surgery repairing you and saving your life. You owe him the respect of his medical expertise."

"I'm telling him you said that." Jim warned.

Spock kissed him again, slow, but moving, like the last one. Spock rested his forehead against Jim's and let his breath ghost over his face.

"Please." Spock implored, nuzzling his cheek against Jim's.

"God, you could get me to do anything with that voice." Jim let go of Spock's hand and watched him crawl out of bed. His bed. Jim smiled.

"I will endeavor to remember that, Jim." Spock quipped, finding the next days round of hypo-sprays. Jim took the injection, and sat still through the readings.

Spock sent them to McCoy who immediately responded.

"Spock, his heart-rate is much too fast and his blood pressure seems to have increased, we might need to—"

"Doctor, I assure you those symptoms are not related to his injury." Spock reasoned.

"Gah! Damnit man, no details!" Jim smirked and tried to poke his head in the view screen.

"What about it Doc, when can I get frisky with my First Officer? In your astute medical opinion?"

Spock would be mortified at the blatant question but he knew Jim would stop at nothing to rile the doctor, especially with his current uneasiness toward the details of their relationship.

McCoy's face blanked and then settled in a dark scowl.

"Five days at minimum but even then, very light exertions."

"Enlighten me, what specific 'exertions' are we cleared for."

"After I castrate you? None."

"Doctor, I am also interested, I do not wish to harm Jim and I fully respect the work that you put into saving him. I would like to know as well; since I am not fully accustomed to human sexual practices it would be beneficial to get your opinion."

Jim tried not to laugh. He didn't expect Spock to chime in.

McCoy's jaw tightened and twitched. 'They will be the death of me.'

"Oral, and hand jobs, but Jesus, do not call me about this ever again." McCoy shut off the screen abruptly.

Jim chuckled, and immediately clutched his side as a flaring pain introduced itself.

"Are you alright, Jim?" Spock asked suddenly.

"Yeah, just…" Jim waited for his breathing to return to normal.

"And what are "hand-jobs"?" Jim almost died. He went blank for a second before composing himself.

"A sexual activity."

"I gathered that from our discussion, Vulcan hands are extremely sensitive but I did not know human's experienced a similar type of stimulation."

"Oh no. Spock it's definitely not the same as a Vulcan's version. Wait, Vulcan's have a sexual response designed for their hands?"

"Would you like one performed?"

"Vulcan or human? But God with that pain just now I don't think I could live through an orgasm. But I suppose if you're... curious I could do one to you without the need for reciprocation. If you want." Jim felt awkward. Sex with Spock. He was comfortable with kissing Spock, that didn't feel as strange.

Jim felt like a teenager again, as though he were discovering his sexuality and felt the nervousness of exploring another person's body for the first time. It ignited him in a way he never thought he'd regain.

"I do not think you could adequately stimulate me in the Vulcan way without having touch telepathy or at least a mental bond with me. And as you stated, our mental connection is at my discretion. I do not believe such a bond will be beneficial so soon in our relationship."

"So, no to the hand-jobs." Jim asked slightly disappointed.

"No to the _Vulcan_ "hand-jobs"." Spock scooted closer and placed a hand over Jim's for mental stability. Spock found it comforting to feel Jim's desire. It made him feel assured in Jim's affection for him. The thought in itself was quite stimulating. More so than Spock had ever expected.

"What do I need to do?" Spock asked gently, threading his fingers between Jim's repeatedly.

"First I'm going to push myself against the wall; the extra support will make it so I don't have to strain as much." Jim explained.

"Perhaps we don't need to do this then."

"No, no. I want to. Please?"

"Very well. But if I sense any pain from you, we are going to stop. Now what should I do?" Spock prompted once Jim got into a comfortable position against the back of his bed.

"Lay beside me." Spock did so, taking what was to be 'his' side of the bed.

"Just relax; I'm going to touch you okay?"

"Jim, I already gave you permission to do what you wished physically, you do not need to warn me or give me a 'play by play'." Jim laughed lightly as possible and nodded at his request.

"Sorry." Jim first gave Spock's hand a squeeze then moved his fingers over the material of Spock's robe. He touched the material, rubbing his fingers over the softness of the cloth. After a moment the black fabric seemed to thicken and rise slightly. Jim pressed down, cupping through the cloth. Spock closed his eyes and tilted his head back. Jim pushed his fingers down, trying to feel the outline, the contours, something that would tell him which direction to rub. A distinct thickness formed, firm and convex. Spock stayed silent through the constant attention. Jim knew it wasn't from the lack of enjoyment. He could recognize a Vulcan suppressing emotion from a mile away and it didn't surprise him one bit that the sensations were overwhelming.

Jim finally found what he believed to be the tip. He cupped it, swirled his hand over it and then stroked downward to the base. Spock's hips pushed down against the mattress, as though he were trying to escape Jim's hand. Jim hesitated for a moment, but remembered Spock's words. He was confident Spock would tell him to stop if he wished it.

Jim continued.

The intense rigid formation was unyielding and very much encouraging. And Jim was just warming up.

Jim's large hand parted the robe and slipped beneath. He searched and palmed, flattening first on Spock's hip, squeezing for a second before moving on. Jim let his nails trail from the jutting hipbone inward to Spock's filling cock. He laid the expanse of his hand over most of his erection. He kneaded it, caressed it. Spock's hardness was rougher feeling then most humans, still soft but more taunt and solid. He couldn't imagine how it would feel thrusting inside of him. Jim grinned, okay maybe he could. Jim gripped him from the base and stroked upward, clenching him tightly, securely. Spock's breath puffed just audibly and his hips jumped unexpectedly. Jim let another smile go and gave another tug. His fingers kept their exploring pattern and dropped lower, feeling a pair of tightly drawn orbs between his fingers. He cupped them lightly, stroking over the skin before returning to the fullness of his First Officer's cock.

Damn that was weird to think, Jim mused. He'd have to make some sort of delineation in his mind when he referred to Spock or else he was afraid he'd get hard during their shifts on the bridge. Perhaps Commander, or Mr. Spock during shifts. Number one, or First Officer. Just Spock would be saved for their nights alone. But perhaps Commander could be used on some kind of kinky, role-playing night. Jim's thoughts became distracted but eventually he returned to the task at hand… or in hand.

"Jim…" Spock pleaded softly.

Spock twisted, slamming his hips into Jim's hand. Spock no longer laid flat; he was on his side now, moving rhythmically, seeking. It also gave him better access. Spock tilted Jim's head with a touch on his cheek and took Jim's lips. The kiss was firmer, more distinct. Spock's lips moved almost instantly and his mouth parted. Jim licked Spock's lips for a second then closed his mouth to finish the kiss. Spock settled his head on Jim's shoulder and panted against the human's skin as he continued to pumping him from base to tip. Jim quickly adjusted to the slight hitch in his hand when it smoothed over an extra ridge. Dear god, Jim thought, as he imagined Spock's powerful hips aimed at something more than his hand. The thought alone almost made Jim hard, a state he'd hope would dissolve quickly.

"Captain… Jim…" Spock huffed huskily between breaths.

_Captain_.

Damn if that wasn't hot. Definitely some kinky role-playing potential.

Jim finally realized Spock's vocalizations were warnings, and quickened his hand.

Spock's release was relatively silent. His forehead dug between Jim's shoulder and his neck and his mouth hung open in a wet kiss against Jim's skin. Several more breaths passed before Spock looked up, or even acknowledge him at all.

"I… think I understand the ….basic mechanics." Spock regained his composure and blinked at the small amount of wetness shinning on Jim's hip.

"Other than picking up the 'mechanics', how was it? Would you let me do that again?"

"Yes. The sensation was extremely pleasurable. I only wish I could reciprocate without the fear of causing you discomfort or extreme pain."

"You and me both!" Spock looked sympathetic, it was not becoming of him.

"Hey, I'll be better soon. Five days, McCoy said." Spock allowed a small smile and nodded.

Spock sat up and stalked to the bath room, his robe falling back into place. Spock returned with a washcloth and rubbed his semen from Jim's body.

"Two weeks of shore leave, what do you want to do?"

Spock reflected silently.

"I think we should concentrate on your recovery before we make any shore leave plans."

Jim winced as he shifted in the bed.

"I agree. So do you think anyone's missed our presence over the last day or so or do you think they're all just too excited for shore leave?"

"While I wouldn't be opposed to you staying in your quarters, perhaps taking a walk to the bridge would give the crew reassurance about your condition before leave begins. Most were informed of your critical state and beyond that only knew that you recovered. I think taking a lunch in the mess hall then adjourning to the Bridge would satisfy their curiosity well enough."

"That is a good idea. I should stretch my legs a bit. And now that I think about it I am getting hungry."

Spock leaned forward and took Jim's lips for a second.

"What do you mean you have trouble expressing human affection, I think you are doing quite well!"

"I didn't know how I would initially respond to you. I found that I'm more receptive then I originally perceived."

"I like it." Jim admitted then extended his hand. Spock readily clasped their fingers together, sliding three or so to the soft pads of Jim's hand. The tips of their fingers connected with a heat Spock didn't expect.

"Alright Mr. Spock, we should probably make our appearance."

"Indeed. Would you like assistance in showering?" Jim couldn't say no and made a move to stand. Spock supported him lightly in case, escorting him to the bathroom.


	5. Chapter 5

Spock guided Jim to the bathroom, carefully stripping his Captain as they walked to the shower. Jim pushed aside Vulcan fingers, insisting on keeping some bit of control and feeling of usefulness. Though when Jim tried removing his boxers, unabashedly and quickly but his ribs and sore abdomen lurched at the movement. Jim cried softly. Instantly he felt Spock, warm and tight around him, arms and hips trapping his body from sinking any further. Vulcan hands cradled human arms, waiting for the pain to stop before inquiring or pushing him any further in their task.

"Does the pain persist?"

"No, no. Just… unexpected. Everything feels fine until I…ugh… move the wrong way." Spock could feel the frustration, the shame at being less than 100%.

Spock stilled Jim from any further movement, forced him stand into silence and patience until he was sure Jim was ok. Spock's hand rested on Jim's naked back, skin to skin; there would be no hiding emotion or putting up a valiant front. Jim knew this and didn't fight it. He waited with Spock. His ribs ached for another minute, pulsating as abdominal cramps and stabs tore through him.

Spock crouched down, sliding his hand from between Jim's shoulder blades to the impressive curve of his lower back.

"Let me." Spock said, slipping his fingers underneath soft cotton and caressed his way down Jim's legs.

Spock folded the undergarment and laid it on the counter space near the sink. Before Spock could turn around, Jim took a step over shower's lip and stilled. Spock held in a feeling of protectiveness.

"I know you have a fondness for water, Captain, but I believe sonics will have to do until you recovered."

Jim sighed and looked like he was bracing himself for a traumatic experience; his muscles flexed and tensed, and his head bowed.

Spock switched the mechanism on and waited for the process to start. The overheads gave a soft whine and a warm sanitizing temperature spread throughout the room. It felt like being cocooned by invisible steam. Jim normally found it suffocating and disorienting, but this time it was not so bad.

Eventually he straightened his back and hugged himself as the warmth continued to zap bacteria and dirt.

Jim couldn't help but notice that Spock was still dressed. He would've felt disappointed with other partners, but Spock's supportive presence filled that place. It was calming and soothing to have him so near. Jim felt the adhesive wraps around his torso melt away. Numbness washed over him, making his skin feel swollen and tender. Without the tightness of the wrap he began to feel just how rattled about his insides were. Ribs expanded slightly, and abnormally, his organs felt like they were going to tumble into the front of his stomach, and worse of all he couldn't _really_ feel any of it. The wrap did what it was supposed to. The drug washed into his veins much quicker than how it normally worked. Jim sighed as the room became stuffy and his epidermis a puffy layer of cotton. He was so numb that he couldn't tell where his chest contacted his crossed arms or where his fingers really lay on his elbows.

Spock turned away for a moment, letting Jim finish the process.

Though there wasn't much to do in a sonic shower. It was intended to be less work and efficient for officers with busy schedules. The process could be as long as 10 minutes or as short as two depending on particular settings. This cycle was complete in a total of 6 minutes.

Jim turned around and shuffled to the shower ledge. He stretched out his arms like a child and waited until Spock turned around.

Spock's eyes softened for a second before stepping forward and gripping Jim's biceps, lifting him a bit to help keep his body's core from being exercised more than necessary. Spock pushed a button on the wall and all the heat from the room vanished and was replaced by a rapid fan. Jim shivered and looked disapproving as Spock made him stand there for the requisite time.

"I could have used a towel." Jim commented.

"Using physical force to dry a non-wet surface especially when you are sore from surgery seems counterproductive to your recuperation time."

Jim remained silent and cast his eyes to the floor.

Spock led Jim to the bed and eased him onto the mattress. Spock retrieved another set of wraps and perched next to Jim with a clinical eye.

Jim lifted his arms slowly, letting Spock's fingers do their magic. Eventually the tumbling feeling and the rattling ribs silenced themselves under Spock's care.

Another dose of the drug seeped through.

Jim's eyes narrowed slightly when Spock retrieved a new gold uniform and black slacks. The glare got tighter when Spock started rolling up the hem of his command shirt and offered it above his head.

"Please."

Jim sighed and raised his arms, sticking them awkwardly through the sleeves and held in a breath when Spock's hands smoothed the cloth over his sides.

As always, Spock's hands were gentle and caused none of the anticipated ache when his ribs were touched.

"Hmm." Kirk commented, turning his head experimentally to the left. Then to the right. He faced Spock, his eyes glazed over and his pupils still.

"Are you alright, Jim?"

"Hmmm." Kirk responded again, blinking this time as if to rouse him from some great depth.

"Captain?"

"I think…it's…it's working." Spock tried to understand but failed completely. Something was wrong. Spock reached for the medical tricorder he signed out from Sickbay and ran it quickly over the Captain.

An insistent hailing frequency cropped up behind the medical bleeps.

"Sickbay to Spock."

Spock reached the wall-comm.

"Spock here."

"Jim's vitals are fine. I have the same readings down here. When the wraps disintegrate from the sonic shower it releases all of the medicine into the bloodstream at a rapid rate. And I'm guessing you've just re-wrapped his ribs?" McCoy didn't wait for a response. He didn't need to. "He'll be disoriented for a bit and will probably need to take a half hour nap but after that he should be fine."

"Very well. Do you require his presence today?"

McCoy didn't answer and leaned in irrationally as if it would help him determine where Jim was in the room. Humans.

McCoy motioned for the private earpiece in the compartment under the wall-comm. Spock gave the doctor an eyebrow, but complied. The private earpiece was likened to Uhura's communications receiver. Once secured, McCoy continued.

"Not until after supper, make sure he eats light and often. Take him to lunch after his nap and make sure he eats at least three or more meals before bed. Approximately 200-400 calories each if you can manage it, I'll be programming his ration card to administer vitamins and proteins to whatever he eats."

"Clever."

"Do NOT tell him I do this, it will ruin all the boosters I've been secretly giving him for the past 2 years."

"Your secret is safe, Doctor."

"Good, McCoy out."

"What secret?" Jim asked groggily.

"That is between the Doctor and me, Jim; he requests that you rest for approximately one half hour."

"Well there goes lunch with the crew."

"Not necessarily, many people gather after shifts, not just before them as you or I do. I'm positive the officer's mess is not empty."

Kirk lifted his arms again, sighing softly.

Spock lifted an eyebrow.

"Well I'm not going to sleep in this."

Spock stepped closer and pulled the uniform top off.

"Better?"

"Much. Will you lie with me?" Jim asked, yawning immediately thereafter.

"I should prepare personnel and assist with shore leave designations, there is much to consider with experiments running with lax supervision in the labs."

"Yes, I suppose you should. Go Science Officer, I'll be fine." Jim reclined and scooted carefully onto the bed.

Spock grabbed a throw blanket and pulled it over his captain.

"Are you sure you do not need me here?"

"Want, Spock but I'll comm. you when I wake, ok?"

Spock nodded and bid Jim farewell.

But when Spock stepped into the empty hallway a distinctive, hollow feeling attempted to fill him. Spock stopped the sensation before it started, but not before studying its source. His interaction with Jim was going well. There was little awkwardness or interfering feelings between them, especially after their first sexual experience. It was… nice, Spock concluded. He genuinely looked forward to experiencing more with the Captain. He especially wished to see how their command would be affected. Two weeks. It would be that long before Spock could test their new relationship in an old environment. Hopefully, things would remain relatively the same.

Spock reached the labs and instantly began organizing the experiments and their priorities. He cataloged any results and filed them away to be studied by their respective scientists. Spock went to the lab terminal and downloaded all the files and sent them to various scientific heads.

With everything updated, Spock put some long term experiments on automation. The computer would effectively record everything and change variables accordingly. And the ones that needed attention Spock programmed into his pad so he could personally tend to them.

Spock started compiling a shore leave rotation for the Science Department. All in all he had thirty-four scientists to manage and a dozen or so aides. Sometimes a few curious stranglers would crop up every now and then, accompanying individuals based on their personal interest in a particular project. While Spock encouraged curious study, he found that peering over colleagues' shoulders could be a bit distasteful. He learned later that most stranglers were women. And though 68% of his scientists are female, it gave suspicion as to their real objective. Vulcan ears are very perceptive and though he suspected their interest was more attune to inappropriate affections for their superior officer he still had no proof that this was true. Women were hushed and secretive. He hadn't heard a single line in the way of verbal confirmation, so while they stayed silent, they stayed.

Spock felt another rush of empty coldness touch lightly about him.

Vulcan eyebrows slanted downward and concentrated for a moment.

His eyebrows released when his comm. pad vibrated at his hip.

"Spock here."

"Good morning." came a bright smiling voice.

"Jim."

The cold vanished and his mind filled with warmth.

Slowly he realized what it was.

Spock missed him.


	6. Chapter 6

Jim was sitting up in bed, yawning and stretching as much as his body would allow.

Spock took a moment to study the behavior, so similar to a human infant, yet far less vulnerable. Jim's hem rose as his fingers sought the celing. Spock felt his eyes shift and gain an unseen weight when he took in the deep color that painted Jim's skin. The shade was unsettleing. Spock hid his reaction as quickly as it came, but he could not find a mask for his blatant staring. Jim noticed this immediately.

"Five days, Spock." Jim reminded, his eyes equally heavy and trembling but with a completely different emotion. They twinkled with an impossible expression of energy and light. There wasn't a light source in the captains quarters to account for the shinning gold that sparkled at him.

"How are the labs?"

"Effectively managed, though I will have to check in on them for fifteen minutes a day. I have assigned crew members to tend to experiments that require further supervision."

Jim smiled.

Human smiles never had much affect on the Vulcan. Spock found the musculature reaction just that, a reaction. A condition of this particular race. A non-verbal signal to promote happiness and contentment, much like a dog wagging its tail, or a sehlat kneeding its paws. It had little bearing on how Spock interacted with others. He watched for it, to clue him in on the emotional state of the humans he socialized with but other than mild fascination he never gave the reaction much thought.

Except now Spock generated a very specific thought.

'I want it to reoccur, and I want it to be the cause of it.'

"In otherwords you're making yourself more available to me for nothing other than social purposes?"

"I also have a promise to keep to Doctor McCoy. I must honor that promise."

"Well, don't feel like your obligated to keep me company. I mean I know we're starting this relationship thing and all but I can imagine it would be pretty boring watching me laze about in my quarters. If you want to do something else, I won't be offended."

"Are you adverse to my company?"

"God no. Stay as long and as much as you like."

"I do not understand your distiction between 'long' and 'much', they appear to be the same quanity."

"Long, for the amount of time. Much, for how interactive you want to be while you are here." That smile reappeared for a second, but left all too quickly.

"Jim."

His eyes flicked up.

"I want to be here, by your side, for as long as spot is open to me."

That smile that left moments ago rerouted to Jim's eyes and soon overflowed his face, twisting and crinkling into some type of skin origami, just as bright and beautiful as a thousand paper cranes.

Spock could quite place where these random references were coming from. Everything he found fascinating about human culture came back to him to describe the being that was Jim.

And Jim was utterly fascinating. All consuming even.

Spock's meditation schedule was about to get frantic. Emotion, association, warmth, asimile, metaphor, they all collided when Spock let his barriers slip.

It was draining and exhausting.

Jim noticed Spock's dark and vacant eyes.

Spock shivered when Jim brushed the tips of his fingers over Spock's knuckles. A hitched breath and a quick reflex snapped the hand back.

Speaking of barriers.

"Spock?"

"I apologize, I am fatigued. I am not use to recieving so much... emotion."

"It's okay. Am I too loud mentally? Is there... you know... any way to turn it down for you?"

"There are several meditative techniques that I can teach you to 'turn down' your emotional projection." Spock saw a far-away look on Jim's face and it suprised him at how easily he could asertain its meaning without physical contact.

"You do not have to mute what you feel for me, Jim. The meditation allows you to use your mind in a slightly different way. You can still send your affections. In fact I prefer it."

The look persisted. He was not understanding.

"Jim. You are human. Your mind processes emotion based on experience, situation, and mental reactive conditioning from an early stage. I understand you cannot help initial impulses. This technique will make your messages clearer. I can feel you reaching out to me. But in the midst of your affection I can sense the frustration you had with the replicator last week. The millions of thoughts and reactions to those thoughts are hitting me at full force."

"I'm sorry."

"Do not be. I am also to blame, I let my barriers down for you. I wish to feel what you feel, to get to know you without misjudgement or misdirection. It is only you who can decide what you want me to know. I want to rebuild my shields."

"With meditation?"

"Yes, and in turn I will help you tune your thoughts so that I am not hit with so much static."

"I knew you understood human metaphors."

"That is hardly relevent. And if you already knew this, why are you suprised?"

"Yeah, but. You'd never admit it."

"I believe I just did."

"As I was saying, we need to control ourselves mentally before we proceed."

Jim looked hesitant. And he was. Having just replenished his bodily strength he was in no mood to deplete his mental. Especially if he wanted to have that lunch, now dinner, with the remaining crew.

"Can we wait until later tonight?"

"Of course." Spock took a breath this time and lifted a barrier or two before he took Jim's hand.

Spock stood and tugged lightly.

"Can you stand?"

Jim nodded and crawled to the edge of the bed. He lifted with little trouble, hissing slightly only when he straightened.

Jim tested a few steps and found the natural bounce of walking uncomfortable, but not unbearable. Spock could see it in Jim's eyes and felt the numb ache through their connected hands.

Jim let go and grinned with his arms stretched at his sides.

Spock assumed this was another adolesent display, but he could not place it.

"If you are finished, I will escort you to the mess hall." Spock held out a hand.

"Like this? Won't this give us away?"

"I agreed to the touching of our hands, and as we are off duty I do not think I'm breaking any bounderies or rules. Though if you wish for the crew to remain completely uninformed I will refrain," Spock said and then added with some amusement, "Also, I do not believe you are as stable as you think you are."

Jim smiled faintly and hooked his arm through Spock's in a more supportive manner and less blatently holding his hand.

"Lead the way."

Jim, despite being obviously supported by Spock, felt like a blushing date with their arms linked as they walked slowly through the corridors.

Crew members stopped briefly with bright smiles and glanced respectively at Spock every now and then. Otherwise, Spock's presence went virtually unnoticed. Expected even, as people seemed to greet them as one entity.

McCoy was finishing up his meal at the last table and waved them over.

Spock helped Jim ease into one of the mess hall chairs before retriving his own directly across from the Captain.

"So how is he really?" McCoy asked, leaning in a way that cut Jim out of the conversation.

"He hasn't attempted any of the things you warned me about. I believe he will recover without the aformentioned setbacks." Spock said in a tone that was considered bright in Vulcan standards.

"Good. Did you need an extra set of wraps?"

"I only have two left, and I will change one tonight. I will retrieve more in the morning."

"I think I'm beginning to like this guy." McCoy admitted, his face immediately brightening in a smooth country boy smile.

"You're just glowing because someones finally taking your orders for a change." Jim said.

"Damn right. If I knew you'd take to Spock's nursing this well I would'a sicked him on you years ago!"

"Why would I be sick on the Captain, wouldn't that defeat the purpose of my 'nursing'?"

"Ignore him, he already admitted to knowing human phraseology, he thinks he's funny."

"Did he, now?"

Spock inwardly frowned. He'd hoped by being in an intimate relationship with the Captain that the constant 'ganging up' that Jim and McCoy would do to poke fun at his Vulcan heritiage would cease. He was sorely mistaken. Old habits die hard, he supposed and took the teasing in stride. He could tolerate it from the Doctor, but Jim was another matter. The human would learn.

"He did, he even used one."

"Tainted already? I thought you had more resiliance than that, Spock."

Most of their conversation was staged as such so they directly engaged Spock but gave him little room for comment.

"You'll have to let me in on his other more human traits. I suppose there's a good thing after all to this whole relationship thing."

The window opened.

"The Captain will soon learn of my resiliance if he breeches any intimate information to you regarding my supposed human traits."

Spock's tone was serious and clipped and rendered his dinner-mates speechless.

Spock had a way of killing a conversation. Jim looked sheepish and could find no rebuttle. McCoy reamined eerily silent. It was one of those moments where they knew the ice was thin and even if they did have a tip-toed comment, a half-vulcan was unpredictable in his reaction.

The uneasiness soon slipped away.

Jim ate lightly like McCoy requested and got caught once or twice trying to slip his relicator chip to the occassional yeoman for a second offering.

"Take it easy, the medication won't let you eat too much. Trust me, you don't want a full stomach when you're on that shit."

"Fruit and juice a meal does not make." Jim sneered.

"Poor baby. Well, I've gotta go make shore leave preperations. Are you guys staying on the ship?" McCoy asked.

"We will stay aboard for the first week and if Jim is satisfactorly recovered we may venture off-ship."

"Let me know if you do, I won't be leaving for another three days though so you have time."

McCoy left.

"Wow."

"Yes Jim?"

"He must really trust you if he's leaving while I'm still injured."

"Would you go to sickbay even if he were aboard?"

"Probably not. Good point."

"Shall we?" Jim stood and hooked his arm through Spock's. Spock stiffened slightly.

"You weren't actually mad about the human jokes were you?"

"…"

Spock led him in silence to Jim's quarters.

"If you were I'd be able to say I'm sorry?"

"I would appreciate such comments from McCoy; he uses it to express affection that would otherwise undermine his character, you however, do not have such excuses."

"So you are mad?"

"…"

"Spock, what did I say about hiding emotion from me?"

"It might be a good idea considering it is now open conversational topics for the doctor and yourself."

"Spock you know we were joking. You know I … wouldn't mean it."

"No. I am not mad."


	7. Chapter 7

Jim spent the rest of the day glued to his desk. He felt better. And deservingly so. His body still ached but his heart felt alive and thumped with an unknown energy. It puzzled him. How easily Spock fit in his room. How natural he looked cross-legged on the floor with his eyes closed and lips parted. How unbelievable it was that this man cared for him beyond the limits of duty.

And better yet. Spock trusted him. He knew it, of course. But Spock trusted him with his body. An event that Jim had never even considered. How rushed he'd been! Jim's hand tingled. He curled it, feeling a phantom hardness filling his palm. It felt nice. And Jim could not mistake the darkness in Spock's eyes, the anticipation and want.

But rushed, Jim reminded himself.

Jim finally had a moment to himself to think. Really think. He didn't want to take advantage of his newfound 'power'. Even if it were by Spock's suggestion. Directed, he said. Not ordered. Jim had to remember that, but still, he felt obligated to do things right, to make up for the hurried touch.

Jim would make him dinner. Of course he couldn't just jump down to the ship's kitchen and whip something up. No, this needed preparation. Research. Perhaps he could contact Sarek or Spock's alternate self and ask what his favorite dish is. Or, excuse me, what he deems 'acceptable' on multiple occasions.

Eventually Jim stopped daydreaming and returned to his reports. He caught Spock at his terminal earlier that day and insisted that he was capable of doing them himself. After the forty-seventh one he almost wished he'd let Spock help. But worse than not doing them was being out of the loop, or ignorant of how his ship was being run. He trusted that most of the budget requests and authorization procedures were needed, and he approved more than half, but it didn't stop him from his own form of bureaucratic duty.

Jim let out an accomplished sigh and stretched at his chair.

"Are you finished with your reports, Captain?" Jim jumped out of his stretch and laughed. He'd forgotten Spock was in the room. After two hours of quiet meditation, and absorbing the incense, Jim had quickly drifted in his own captainly-world. Jim laughed again, his smile reaching softening the Vulcan's eyes.

"Goodness, I've been thinking about you this whole time and I even forgot you were here." Jim offered as an explanation.

"I had intended to be unobtrusive to your work, sir."

"You were that. Thank you, for staying with me."

"Of course."

"Shall we go to the mess? I'm hungry."

Spock hesitated, and shifted his weight an infinitesimal amount to the left.

"Perhaps we could use the room replicator." Spock suggested.

Jim was touched at the thought. A quiet dinner, light chatter, privacy. It sounded cozy and intimate. But after his determination to abstain from too much Spock-touch, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to hold back a kiss or two. And perhaps at this stage a kiss or two wouldn't be over that line. No. The private dinner would be fine.

"Sure, Spock, mind dialing me something?" Spock seemed to hesitate, and then nodded curtly as if he'd received an order from the bridge.

Spock returned with two dishes, one steaming and the other pale and cold.

"What's that?" Jim asked, pointing to the fleshy tubing with orange flakes.

"It most closely resembles a Terran spring roll. Only the vegetables are native to Vulcan and the wrapping is made from a secretion found from a T'ku'th tree. It hardens and can be easily stretched when moist." Spock replied.

Jim couldn't tell if Spock anticipated his question or if he was naturally able to recall information in such a quick and precise manner. From Jim's work with him on the bridge it seemed to be the latter.

Jim contemplated if he wanted to score Vulcan-points and ask Spock for a taste of his home-planet cuisine. Considering his allergies, it took a lot of courage to bite into something that was a) unknown and b) from an entirely different planet.

Jim passed up the idea and took his own plate, smiling at the pork tenderloin wrapped with potatoes, onions and various peppers.

"God, great choice. If Bones were on-board his screens would be blinking in alert by now! Thanks Spock!" Jim took a bite, smiling and humming around his fork.

"Since I used my chip for both meals, there will be no alarms at the doctor's station." Spock said, staring at the Captain's mouth for a fraction of a second.

"I may have to take advantage of that, if you'll let me." Jim purred again as he swirled the meat in a generous puddle of gravy.

"Thou' he migh' get suspicious ifh you kee' ordering meat." Jim slurred around a tongueful of peppers and sauce.

Spock gave him hopeless look and nearly smiled as he reached across the small quarter's table to rub a drip of sauce from the Captain's lip.

Jim laughed and rubbed the same spot, partially embarrassed.

It was entirely endearing. Heart-warming. Jim realized soon that Spock flared in him a whole new set of emotions. Attraction was obvious. Attraction was easy. These other hints of adoration and devotion were something new. Jim knew in this instant that he never wanted to see pain or sadness on Spock's face. He felt protective, dutiful, but not as a Captain. And he felt it beyond friendship. Certainly he cared for McCoy. Loved him even. But there was such a drastic line between romantic and platonic that it should have been obvious.

"Jim?" Spock watched Kirk's embarrassed smile turn thoughtful and soft.

"Just thinking of the company I have tonight. Thank you."

It was bare now. Laid open were all the longing looks and plentiful pauses. Meaning behind them stripped and exposed, like live wire. Jim never considered it. Never thought passed the occasional sexual rise that would flood him on the bridge or in a moment too close on the turbo-lift. He knew he was meant to protect this man, this alien. And that they had the potential for a fulfilling friendship. But to discover the missing pieces of himself in someone so vastly different was shocking. And maybe it was puppy-love. Imaginary. Dreamy and deceiving. But for now, Jim basked in it. Soaked it in despite all warning signs not to jump in too deep.

"Spock." Jim said, catching the Vulcan in mid bite.

"Yes Jim?" Jim didn't elaborate; he leaned over the table and pressed his lips to Spock's.

Spock's eyes flipped close, and then open. He inhaled sharply and pulled away.

"I… Jim." Spock started, looking away.

"Shit. Sorry." Jim wiped his mouth, looked down at his food and felt the need to apologize again. "I just got caught up, you know?"

"I know the replicator synthesizes the meat product, and that it is not, in fact, living flesh. The smell however is very overwhelming. I believe if you were to have continued for any length of time, the outcome would have been unfavorable." Spock looked green and his breath controlled.

"Ah, so how long before that smell is not so overwhelming?" Jim asked sheepishly.

Spock didn't answer and continued eating.

"Sorry, it'll take a while for all these cultural difference to be no so different."

"I will be patient, Jim, do not think you did anything wrong." Spock assured and picked up his plate.

"Are you finished, Jim?" Spock reached for his plate and hesitated.

"Yeah, yeah. Thank you."

"You are welcome." Spock watched Jim's downcast eyes as he plucked the Captain's plate from the table. When Spock returned he slipped his hand under Jim's fingers and rubbed lightly.

"When in doubt, use those differences to your advantage." Spock said, dragging the pads of his fingers across Jim's palm.

"Logical." Jim chuckled, placing his other hand over Spock's, trapping it between the two.

"Since I picked our main dish, I believe it is only fair that you get to pick the dessert."

Kirk's mind did flip flops and dizzily settled on that line of 'do not cross' that he established earlier.

Jim disengaged their hands and moved to the replicator. He keyed in his favorite and waited.

"What the?" Jim stared at the selection. A red blinking light stared back.

"Damnit Scotty." Jim pounded at the buttons and stopped when the dispenser spit a glob of matter onto the already debauched dessert.

"Looks like the dessert menu is out of order tonight Spock."

"Perhaps we could go down to the mess and grab it from there."

A walk did sound good. If they were planet side it would be a great end to a dinner out. Jim took in the fantasy and went with it.

"Sure."

Spock rose to join him at the door.

"Captain." Jim turned to him and widened his eyes at the sight of Spock's face swooping in. The kiss was unexpected. The arm cradling his head even more so. A deep press and passionate inhale, with a light suckling on his bottom lip, left his knees wobbling.

Unexpected and sweet.

Spock pulled away and stood straighter than before. He stepped to activate the door and held out a leading hand.

"After you, sir."

Jim had no choice but to step out. The hall looked brighter and it took a few steps to regain his breath. A giddy feeling rose in the Captain, which he quickly squashed down. Spock's calm shadow always seemed to be in the background, but now with every step he was ever aware of the Vulcan heat not more than a footfall behind.

Jim was still in a daze when he reached the mess hall. He didn't even see the extra bodies. The familiar faces. The shouting and hollering at his entrance.

"SURPRISE!"


	8. Chapter 8

The first thing to jar Jim out of his dazed revere was the sight of Uhura out of uniform. The floral patterned dress she wore blossomed over dual curves. Delicate bolander's lilies and bold peonies burst against the backdrop of her dark skin. Long raindrop earrings centered her angled face and accentuated her tall neck. A low beaded belt dangled off her hips. Her smile was melody and became the only sound in the room.

This woman is beautiful, Jim thought.

Once he could find the strength, Jim looked pass Uhura to see Scotty, his face cracked with a grin and his eyes crinkled. Also out of uniform, but far less distracting.

To Scotty's left, Chekov and Sulu leaned toward one another with red drinks in hand.

Bones appeared at the group's right, not really smiling, but not really not. Christine pushed a drink in the doctor's hand and smiled for him.

The bridge crew gathered at the front and to the back a murmur of ensigns and lieutenants.

After the crowd dissolved, Jim could finally took in the room. Tacky streamers fell from the ceiling in all the wrong colors. Punch bowls held strangely colored liquid, and the buffet table looked like a cluster-fuck of protein chips and replicated food rations. The one thing that stood out was a two foot tall cake, layered and smeared with thick colorful frosting, that, and the amount of love and adoration needed to put together such an event.

Spock took a step to form a perfect line with Jim.

Jim smiled and put up a command hand that stopped all sound in the room, save for Uhura's smile.

"Thank you. I don't know of any crew that sticks around after two days of shore leave to see off their Captain. It means a lot to me to see so many faces." His smile turned into mock disgust with his crew. "What is wrong with you people?"

The crowd laughed a beat.

"Really, I am proud to call you my crew. Thank you for this." Christine appeared in front of him with a similar drink to Bones.

"To the best crew in the fleet!" He took a sip and gestured to the table. "Let's eat!"

Everyone filtered near him but not really approaching. Except Uhura who slinked directly toward him like a predator or disapproving mother, both felt equally threatening.

Her olive dark eyes appraised him and Jim couldn't help but blush.

He darkened when her hand clutched his arm.

"I trust you're doing better."

Jim nodded and tried once again to take a spot in line for the dessert table.

"Nuh uh, sugar."

"Uh, the rec room looks nice." Jim tried and again stayed in her grip.

"I think you owe me an apology." She purred.

"Apology?" Jim swallowed.

"You've gotta promise me, Mister, that you won't ever let yourself into such danger again!"

"Can I tell you a secret?"

Her eyes narrowed.

"Does your secret include an "I'm sorry for scaring the, excuse me, the shit out of your crew?" then by all means continue."

"Yes, and a promise that it will most likely never happen again."

"Go on."

"Spock likes me." He whispered and levered up and down on his toes.

Uhura rolled her eyes and looked him up and down.

"Hardly the secret, darlin', and how's that an apology anyhow?"

Jim started to grin like he was about to say something crass, but his eyes softened and the most unexpected feeling passed with his next words.

"It means I got something worth staying alive for."

"Now aint that inspiring." Uhura glanced at Spock hardly ten steps back. "I'll hold you to that Mister, or I'll be after you."

She slinked away, hips cocking from side to side.

Spock locked in place next to Jim.

"That woman will kill me someday." Jim sighed, gazing at her retreating backside.

"I doubt Lt. Uhura has a truly violent thought in her head."

"A violent thought with good intentions is still a violent thought, Mr. Spock."

"If she could kill with her mind that would undoubtedly be true."

"She wasn't surprised when I told her you liked me."

"So I heard."

"Well, cake, Mr. Spock?"

"Indeed."

Jim found Scotty in line next to him. The Scotsman gave him a sideways glance and stood quite still.

"Scotty."

"Aye, Cap'n."

"Good punch?"

"Aye, Cap'n."

"Did you…with my replicator…and…"

"Aye, Cap'n."

"Clever. And thanks."

Scotty plopped a piece of cake on his plate and tilted the handle toward Jim. Jim took it and watched Scotty walk a perfectly straight line to the rec room couch.

"He's at level two." Jim informed Spock directly behind him.

"Level two, sir?"

"Scotty hits four levels when he drinks. Level one he is loud and boisterous and he cannot walk straight. Level two he becomes monosyllabic and seems quite sober until you talk to him. Level three is when he can't stop looking at Uhura, trust me that level was hard to discover. And four is him finding some place to sleep; either curled up in a Jefferies tube or on lucky occasions his own bed."

"Fascinating."

Spock declined the cake handle and followed his captain to some of the food that supposedly took the place of a cheese plate or other some other party cuisine. Spock picked up a large amount of the purple mounds.

"What is that?"

"A Vulcan delicacy."

"How can you tell?"

"It is the only thing that replicates purple."

"Ah."

"Do you want to-" Spock offered.

"No."

"Very well."

Jim and Spock took the center of the large banquet table.

They ate, drank, laughed, and Spock stayed at his side in quiet reserve. It was pleasant.

Scotty found stage three. Stage three had become a drinking game to the rest of the crew who knew of it and something completely oblivious to the engineer.

Every time Scotty blushed or stared too long in Uhura's direction, the crew took a discrete drink.

"Jim I have noticed-"

"Yeah."

"Lt. Uhura does not drink when-"

"She doesn't know either."

"Ah."

The party lasted another hour. Scotty finally moved on to stage four. His feet hung out from under the buffet table.

"Should we wake-"

"No, no. He takes pride in stage four. He likes to retell all of the places he's been able to sleep."

"Ah."

"Come on, first, let's go to bed." Jim sidled up to Uhura standing at the door after everyone had filtered out.

"I have another secret."

Uhura gave a look only a woman could give.

"Only if it's better than the last one."

Jim cradled her ear between his hands and whispered something telling.

Spock tried, but he could not pick up the muffled words. But he could see Uhura's eyes widen and lock on a pair of naked hairy feet.

Jim left her speechless and followed Spock out of the room.

Uhura approached the fallen Scotsman. She flipped up the tablecloth and peered at his prone form. It was left field. It was crazy. It was wholly unexpected. It was devastating. What to do? How to act! It changed everything, and nothing.

It..

It was nice. Uhura decided. The embers of her heart had died long ago, even before she joined the academy. She felt excitement brush against the hardened muscle. Scottish pyrite struck within her chest. A spark here. There.

She chuckled.

His face held bits of dried frosting; his chin was light with unkempt stubble. His eyes were dark and sunken from overwork. A small bit of drool dripped from his huffing mouth…

Who are you Scotty, to give the joy of being wanted? Or the rush of newfound affection.

It was unfair, Uhura thought. So unfair.

Slowly she knelt. Slowly she reached out and touched the remaining hair on his head. Soft. It was so soft. He sniffled, grunted, but did not wake.

"Come on, Mr. Scott." She cooed. "Come on." She cupped his head and pulled him as upright as he could be underneath a table. His eyes opened. Flew wide. But unseeing. Foggy, hazed. Uhura coaxed him out of his drunken cave. Steered him out of the recreation room. He followed like a he was in a dream. A very, very good dream. She opened her cabin. And her bed.

She watched him sleep.

"I assume you told the Lt. about Mr. Scott's affection?"

"Scotty shouldn't be lonely through stage four. I hope to get reports of two people sleeping under that table."

"Do you mind?" Spock said following Jim to bed.

"Do I ever?"


End file.
